alis volat propriis
by tatty ted
Summary: There's a side to Holby that's rarely shown, a side where the vulnerable children are exploited. Victoria Woodman is one of those victims caught in the middle of a heroin addiction. When her mother gives her a choice, which does she choose. Heroin or her family? - —George/OC. / Warning; deals with drug use and suicide.


**notes —** the title is latin, translated into english basically means; _she flies with her own wings._

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alis volat propriis  
_a casualty fanfiction_

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Disorientated. Patterns, swirls, puzzles of blue, green, yellow, red.

It started age twelve with a packet of Richmond cigarettes and the cheapest bottle of cider she could find. On the park with the others, _drinking, drinking, drinking _until they were rolling around the floor in a pile of their own vomit, laughing hysterically.

Every friday. Every saturday. Every sunday.

Monday morning, it's school and she'd pop a few paracetamols to help her on her way. School's school. Shit, pointless. She spends most of the day in the toilets skiving the lessons she doesn't like or behind the bike shed smoking.

Intelligent. Good mannered _when she wants to be _its concluded in her school reports every year. Every year she promises she'll _try harder _but she doesn't. In fact, she seems to try harder with the people who are poison in her life; the one's leading her on a downhill spiral.

She's thirteen when she tries cannabis for the first time. And that's _that_ for six months. Just cannabis and Richmonds and still the cheap bottle of cider in the park, three days a week until the age of fourteen.

At fourteen she's introduced to vodka and spirits and shots. It's whilst drunk on the park that she takes a boy to the bushes and performs oral sex on him. That itself is a downhill spirial because she's got the sex-bug and that's all she wants.

_(sex/sex/sex)_

But despite that it didn't _really _go wrong. Okay, the signs were there but nobody noticed. Her father was always too busy, her mother was equally as busy. Nobody took notice until little Vicky was fifteen.

— By then it's too late to save her.

You see, it's at her best friend's birthday she's given a wrap and a needle and shown by her friend how to inject. She later knows it's heroin but by then it's too late because she's addicted and that's all she craves.

Disorientated. Patterns, swirls, puzzles of blue, green, yellow, red.

It's nice. Pretty. Beautiful. She's calm. Relaxed. High.

Drugged up, exploited by those she thought were her _friends_.

And mummy's still too busy with perfect little Tom to notice that Vicky's caught up an addiction. Daddy's too busy with his whore to notice either. And poor little Vicky is stuck, alone, with the monsters in her mind and the track marks on her arms.

/

Darling daughter is her nickname but she's anything but darling. Fucked up, crazy, messed up. Three little words that fit her perfectly, like the right sizes of a jigsaw puzzle. Vicky, Victoria, Tori. Too many nicknames to count on one hand but Vicky is the one she is now.

It's funny to think as a little girl, she used to be like this —

(mummy i want to help people when i'm your age. mummy, i don't like needles they hurt)

These days she can happily stick a needle in her vein for poison. Not to mention these days she hurts people. Probably not intentionally but none the less, she still hurts people. She mainly hurts her mother, all the anger she holds, she takes out on her. Not because she blames her but because she can.

— TOO COLD. TOO COLD. HELP!

It's scribbled on the back of her bedroom door in black marker from the weeks attempting to go cold turkey. She lasts a week at the most before its back outside in the big wide world, with her dealers and her friends and she's right back at it.

Blue, green, yellow, red spirals, diamonds and circles.

Her mother's lost, struggling to understand why beautiful, intelligent little Victoria wants to inject drugs in her body. But little Vicky has no choice. It's not something she chose, it chose her. And all she can do is fall to pieces, too weak to fight the urge.

— blue, green, yellow, red.

Sometimes she'll leave home and won't return for five days. When she does, she's high, laughing hysterically, loveable to everyone. Then she crashes, spends another five days in bed and it's a vicious circle with no end in sight.

No end at all.

/

Vicky's falling, breaking, crumbling. Vicky's scared. Vicky wants to see her brother grow up. Vicky won't see her brother grow up if she doesn't stop injecting. She can't stop. Her mind screams for heroin and she's too weak.

But mummy, — mummy tells Vicky if she wants to be part of the family, she's gotta stop. But Vicky can't. It's an addiction. It's a matter of life or death. She's not stupid, she understands this will kill her but she can't live without it.

/

LIFE.

DEATH.

LIFE.

DEATH.

It's like russian roulette, waiting until the injection puts you in a coma, questioning if you'll live or die tomorrow. She promises her mother through tears she'll try her hardest to overcome her demons, _if _and only if she's there to support her every step of the way.

Mummy agrees. Mummy holds her hand through her tears, whispers words of encouragement to her. Promises her that when she's better, she can come home and help look after Tom. Mummy hopes that's enough to help little Vicky through the hardest thing in her life.

But it's not. Vicky's mind is fucked with pictures and bright colours and demons. The track marks on her arms remind her what she can have and every single fucking day in rehab is torture. And Vicky realises she'll never be able to go back to the girl she was.

/

So Vicky scribbles a note or two or three, pins them to her bedroom door and takes a television cable. She cries, a trial of mascara left to dry on her cheeks as she makes a knot in the rope and hangs herself.

— slow suicide. slow suicide. slow suicide.

She suffocates, she's scared. She realises she doesn't want to die but it's too late. It's too late to save a girl, taunted to death by the monsters in her mind. But as she hangs slowly in the darkness, it's a relief that little Vicky has finally found peace.

Because it's something she would never have found on Earth.

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**jottings — **a new OC of mine, i've had the idea for a while but only just sat down to write it. it was actually inspired by episode 2 of series 12. if you like it enough to favourite, please don't forget to leave a review. thanks;3


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